


Spring Waltz

by venthii



Series: Detroit: Become Human [2]
Category: DBH - Fandom, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor gets robot illness, Coughing, Drabble, Oneshot, Pretty run of the mill sickfic, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 15:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19112881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venthii/pseuds/venthii
Summary: Connor and Hank just exist in the moment of a morning. Domestic couch-surfing-yet-this-is-my-home feels.Connor is robot-sick. Hank is there to help him feel less shitty about it. Non-graphic illness, basically only coughing in its bastardized spelled form.Pretty short, but it ties up nicely.





	Spring Waltz

Connor powers up to the sound of the microwave going off. Cracking open one eye, he winces. Something is amiss - he can feel it, this vague sense of malaise creeping underneath his skin. Lifting his head from the couch cushion, Connor takes a moment to just breathe. 

In. Out. In. Out. 

Hank is fiddling with something in the kitchen. Maybe food. Most likely food. Connor can’t get an accurate percentage on that, probably because he’s trying very hard right now to not exist mentally. Being present at this moment means pain, a whole lot of it. His muscles are taut all over, and moving even slightly brings an overwhelming achy feeling. Connor blinks. Sighs, then presses a hand to his chest. 

His thirium pump seems to be working, if not a little harder than usual. Pumping thick, syrupy thirium through his resistant veins. The thrumming of the machinery underneath his shirt is comforting. He is alive. Hank rounds the corner with a breakfast bowl. Something with sausage and eggs in it. Easy protein. Too much sodium, but they’d had this debate before. Connor touches his cheek, remembering how flushed Hank had become when Connor had mentioned his weight. He doesn’t comment about it anymore. 

Connor sits up, slowly, in time for Hank to sit himself on the opposite end of the couch, where Connor’s aching head had been resting overnight.

“Morning, Connor. You sleep okay?”

“Lieutenant Hank, you know that I do not possess the ability to sleep as you do. I-KFF! KXXFF!”  
A sudden stutter in his coolant system makes him cough, a choked-off sound. 

“-I merely power down and charge for several hours. However the sentiment is appreciated. Good morning. Did you also sleep well?”

Hank gives him a concerned look, eyes sweeping up and down his body. Connor realizes, belatedly, that he’s clutching the blanket Hank covered him in overnight to his chest. He immediately discards it, folding it neatly and placing it across the back of the sofa. He cannot help the tremor in his hands as he does this. He’s cold. It’s an anomaly, and he remotely checks the thermostat to ensure that the heating has not been shut off. It’s reading at a steady seventy eight degrees inside, plenty warm. He clenches his hand into a fist, ignores the uneasiness he feels, and directs his gaze towards the television set. 

Hank fiddles with the remote control for a moment before switching it on, to some talk show. 

“Are you alright, Connor?” He mutters, glancing sideways. “You’re shaking.”

“I believe there is a malfunction in my coolant system. Generally an intake of air assists in modifying my internal temperature changes. Due to the malfunction, I believe my thermoregulator failsafes are kicking in to ensure that I do not overheat. I feel cold.”

“Well, shit.” Hank sets down his meal. “What can we do?”

“I regret to inform you that while this malfunction is- KFF! kFF!-annoying, it is not of upmost priority. I should be able to fix it within several hours.”

“Anything I can do?”

“I...my head hurts. Perhaps we could turn off these lights.”

Hank presses the back of his hand to Connor’s forehead gently, frowning when a steady heat tickles his knuckles. Connor resists groaning, slightly perturbed that he would consider making such a noise in the first place. Hank stands, crossing the room to flick the light-switch and cast his surroundings into darkness. 

“Son, you feel like you’re overheating already.”

“It is likely residual heat from my extended charging session, Hank. I assure you my failsafes are functioning as planned.”

Illuminated only by the glow of his LED and the television, Connor relaxes into his lie, leaning against Hank. His cheek fits nicely up against Hank’s shoulder, so he keeps it there, catatonically watching the hosts of the talk show mindlessly blather about even more mindless topics.

It’s almost quiet, sitting there. Connor doesn’t mind. He doesn’t think Hank does either. They’re just alive. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> cool you made it this far 
> 
> btw thanks for the kudos on my last oneshot I didn’t actually expect anyone to be interested in my extremely niche hurt/comfort bullshit
> 
> you can find me on tumblr but haha you aren’t getting the link because again, very niche bullshit is going on here. thanks for reading.


End file.
